


distance and the time between us

by samalane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Sheith Secret Santa 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalane/pseuds/samalane
Summary: If Keith had known that an impromptu dance party was the much needed catalyst concerning his and Shiro's non-relationship, he'd have signed himself up for one a long time ago.Alternatively: in which people get drunk, dance, and confess for the second time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For maikasa, from the sheith secret santa exhange. I apologize for taking so long to finish this, I started it three times and it fought me every step of the way. I'm still not happy with it, but c'est la vie.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
> Shoutout to Nele for dealing with me and betaing. All remaining mistakes are definitely my fault. (Also to florence + the machine and the weeknd and the songs i riffed on.)

_I couldn’t say I need more time_

— — —

“So,” Pidge says over dinner, stabbing her spoon into her plate of food goo. The look on her face is just this side of mischievous, and Keith finds himself readying himself for a fight. He’s too familiar with that look these days. “I figured out how to hook up our phones to the lounge’s sound system.”

This declaration is met with wild whoops from Lance and Hunk, and a smile from Shiro and Allura.

It’s not at all what Keith was expecting, but he doesn’t let his guard down. Pidge still has that self-satisfied look on her face and it still spells trouble.

“Cool,” he says around a mouthful of goo. “Does anyone have movies on their phones though?”

“Dude,” Lance says, looking extremely offended. “ _Dance party!_ ”

Keith stares at him, then at Pidge. The pieces begin to fit together.

“Uh, okay,” he says slowly, glancing around the rest of the table and gauging the others reactions. Everyone looks excited. “Why?”

“Because dancing is fun?” Pidge offers, Hunk and Lance both making sounds of agreement. “We haven’t had a chance to dick around in ages, and even the saviours of the universe need a break.”

“Also, we have all that weird alien booze from that last planet we went to,” Hunk chimes in. Keith hasn’t forgotten about the liquor, which tastes something like whiskey, except for the sweetness of it. He and Shiro have already cracked open a bottle and have spent a few evenings drinking and reminiscing while the others are asleep.

Keith gets the feeling that they both try to keep the conversation on neutral ground, about things like the way Matt used to always manage to hack into their dorm and leave absurd pictures of aliens taped to every surface. They’ve talked about the cabin a few times, about the changes Keith had made, but that line of conversation is always a little more fraught with the memories of nights spent tangled together in bed.

The alcohol is kind of a necessity. Keith doesn’t want to think about what it says about them, but it staves off the doubt and uncertainty between them, helps them both to forget what they’d once had and carry to on conversations like two adult human beings who can look past the fact that they were once in a relationship and no longer are.

At least, this is what Keith tells himself.

It doesn’t actually work very well, and, honestly, is a little depressing. Especially after Shiro leaves for the night and Keith is left alone with only memories and the liquor bottle.

Said bottle is currently sitting next to Keith’s bed, empty.

He decides not to mention this.

“I guess we could use a night to just relax,” Shiro says, amusement lacing his tone. He turns to Allura and gives her his best _Please grant us this one request smile_. “How does that sound?”

To the relief of everyone other than Keith, Allura smiles widely.

“I think it’s an excellent idea! We’re nowhere near any Galra territory and we haven’t received any distress signals. It’d be nice to just relax and have a few drinks.”

“ _YES_!” Pidge, Hunk, and Lance do a complicated and entirely unnecessary high-five. Keith wonders how he might get himself out of this situation and whether he can take refuge in the training room without anyone noticing.

Probably not, it’s where he always hides and is thus no longer really a hiding spot. Shiro would definitely find him in under two minutes.

“I expect everyone to have at least two drinks, and everybody’s gotta dance,” Pidge says loudly, looking directly at Keith with an evil and completely self-satisfied expression on her face. “No backing out, this is important Paladin Bonding.”

“Why does it need to be a dance party?” Keith asks, narrowing his eyes at her. “Why can’t we just have a sit down and drink party? That sounds a hell of a lot more relaxing.”

“ _Keith_!” Lance exclaims, leaning forward to look at Keith properly and nearly landing his elbow in his dish. “Dude, you can’t drink and _not_ have a dance party.”

The number times Keith has gotten blind drunk and done nothing but cry on the floor are countless, but he decides not to share this piece of information. It’s both embarrassing and depressing.

“I have literally never had a dance party just because I was drinking,” he says instead. Shiro snorts and Keith immiediately turns to shoot him a look. _Don’t you dare_. “What.”

“Keith,” Shiro says, grinning. The sight of it makes Keith’s stomach twist and he tries too focus on Shiro’s voice rather than his blinding smile, despite the fact that this is a battle he’s been losing since the day he found Shiro again. “We used to drink and dance all the time.”

Good looks aside, Keith could cheerfully murder Shiro, he thinks, while the rest of the table breaks out into incomprehensible screaming. He glares at Shiro, feeling his face heat up, but Shiro simply looks at him with that faux-innocent look he’d perfected back at the Garrison. The sight of it brings him back actual years and manages to warm his heart even as he tries to figure out how to shift the attention on to Shiro.

“Those weren’t dance parties,” Keith tries, although he knows it won’t make much a difference to the others. The secret is out and Keith will never live it down.

“We used to go clubbing,” Shiro elaborates, just as Keith says “We used to go out and get piss-drunk.”

Silence falls.

“You used to get piss-drunk,” Shiro corrects, smiling. Keith hadn’t even known Shiro remembered any of this. “I chaperoned and made sure you didn’t get yourself killed. And we went dancing.”

“That sounds a lot more like the Keith we know and love,” Hunk admits. “Except for the dancing part. That’s …unexpected.”

“It’s not like I did it because I love dancing,” Keith protests, although this is not entirely true: he _had_ enjoyed it, with enough alcohol in him. It’d been even more fun before he’d joined the military, but there was a strictly no drugs policy that he’d been forced to abide to.

Honestly, that was probably for the best. Too many nights he didn’t remember.

“Why would you go dancing if you don’t like it?” Lance asks, narrowing his eyes at Keith. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Keith replies. “Why does anyone go out dancing?”

“To hook up?” Pidge asks.

Keith replies without thinking, which is his ultimate downfall. “Yeah, exactly, I — wait, no!”

“Hooooly shit!” Lance isn’t even in his chair anymore, he’s so excited. Keith considers drowning himself in the food goo, because he does not have the patience and why had he agreed to this Voltron thing in the first place? There was a hell, and Keith was currently living it. “Holy shit, I did _not_ know that about you! Holy shit, you just like went out and picked up chicks?”

“No.” He carefully avoids looking at Shiro. He isn’t certain how much he remembers, exactly, and Keith’s sordid past was never really something they enjoyed talking about, especially when they’d become …whatever they had been.

Not that it really mattered anymore, he supposed.

“Lance,” Pidge says with some exasperation. “Keith is obviously into guys.”

Keith wonders if this is the night in which every single one of his dirty secrets are going to be exposed, because it’s sure starting to look like it.

“Oh.” Keith looks up at Lance, who’s considering him thoughtfully. “You know, now that she’s said it, that makes sense. You never noticed anybody fawning over you in the Garrison.”

There is one huge reason for that, and he’s sitting right next to Keith. He can’t keep himself from glancing at Shiro, who’s very determinedly not looking at Keith.

He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Okay,” Hunk says. “Now that we know all about Keith’s romantic life, can we please return to the fact that he and Shiro used to go clubbing? Like, seriously? You guys? I can’t even imagine it.”

That makes Shiro laugh, and even Keith smiles a little.

“Honestly? I couldn’t at first either,” Shiro says, finally looking back at Keith. He’s still smiling, which is a good sign.

“He insisted on going with me one night, and then we just kept going together,” Keith admits. “He was terrified.”

“I wasn’t!” Shiro shoots back. “And somebody had to make sure you weren’t butchered in some weirdo’s apartment.”

The number of times Shiro had bailed Keith out of sketchy situations was actually kind of alarming. There had been more than a few close calls and they’d always laughed about them later, but in hindsight, Keith suspected he’d shaved years off of Shiro’s life with those phone calls.

“Did you meet a lot of freaks? Like, dudes living in dark basement apartments with creepy stalker pictures pasted all over their walls? Or guys with like knife collections?” Pidge asks, looking far too interested.

“Uh,” Keith says, uncertain about how to respond. He shares a look with Shiro and believes there’s an unspoken agreement that he will not, in fact, get into the details. Completely inappropriate and Allura is looking highly fascinated, which means she’ll demanded every little detail Keith can remember.

“Is this a common thing in human culture?” Allura asks. “I know Altean’s were very free in their romantic pursuits, I’d thought humans were much more uptight! I had no idea!”

“It’s pretty common,” Hunk offers. Keith rolls his eyes heavenward and wonders just what he did to deserve this. “Like with more with people around our age, but you know.”

“Okay,” Lance interrupts loudly, still perilously close to knocking his bowl over. “But like, can Keith dance, or is he absolutely terrible at it? He’s terrible, right? Cause I really can’t see him tearing it up on the dance floor.”

Keith wants to be insulted, and that familiar competitive streak rears its ugly head as he contemplates how to best prove Lance wrong. But Shiro laughs, and Keith can’t help but laugh as well, because between the two of them, he’d always been the better dancer.

— — —

When Shiro had asked him to meet him after hours in one of the Garrison’s many training rooms, Keith had expected a bit of sparring. He hadn’t expected to find Shiro alone in the room, fiddling with his phone and a portable speaker.

“Alright,” Keith said, eyeing Shiro warily as he set up the speaker on a benchpress. “What is this? Are we training with music now?”

He could see the grin on Shiro’s face in the mirror in front of them. “No, something else. I need your help.”

Keith crossed his arms, feeling a little uncertain. He’d known Shiro too long to be truly upset by anything he did, and even when trying to be a shit Shiro simply wasn’t capable of it. Since they’d first met, Shiro had proven himself to be entirely too nice for his own good.

So he wasn’t exactly worried, per se. More like confused.

“Does this involve choreographing fight moves? Because I’m at a loss here, otherwise,” he asked, watching as Shiro played around with his phone. The speaker beeped as it connected.

“Sort of,” Shiro said, sounding vague. He looked up at Keith, a sudden sheepish expression crossing over his features. “It’s uh, dancing, actually. I’m expected to attend the Senior Officers Christmas party, and there’s going to be dancing. I’ve been ordered to learn how to waltz.”

It was the last thing Keith expected Shiro to say.

“Wow,” Keith said, trying not to laugh. Although the fact that Shiro had managed to receive an invitation to the Senior Officers senior officers party was pretty impressive. “How the hell did you manage that? No, wait, let me guess — it’s related to Kerberos?”

“Yeah,” Shiro admitted, lips tugging up into a cheeky sort of grin, the one that made Keith’s stomach flip. “It’s nothing really special, they just want me to show up, make nice, you know. Meet people.”

Keith snorted.

“Yeah, okay, Second Lieutenant,” he teased. “They’re certainly not showing off their most talented junior officer.”

“I mean, they are,” Shiro said affably, “But I’m still a junior officer. It’ll be a bunch of serving everyone around me and catering to their needs.”

“Fun,” Keith quipped, grinning at the look Shiro shot him, “I’ll just wait for the Men’s Dinner, thanks. Less having to suck up to officers.”

“Enjoy it while you can, Kogane. This time next year you’ll be a proper junior officer yourself.”

“Don’t remind me. I should have applied for an NCM position.” Keith sighed for effect, although he didn’t really regret enlisting as an officer. The free university was nice.

“Then you wouldn’t have met me, and you’d still be fighting anything that looked at you funny.”

“Hah,” Keith said, letting his arms drop. “So, seriously. You want to — what? Learn how to waltz? I hate to break it to you, but I don’t really know any ballroom dancing.”

“I know,” Shiro said easily, tapping at his phone screen. “It’s just to practice. McKay’s taught me the steps, but he’s not an ideal dancing partner for someone my size. And he has no rhythm.”

“And I do?” Keith asked, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“Of course.” Shiro fixed him with a look. “Seriously, we go out like every weekend.”

“Not every weekend,” Keith countered. Just …most of them.

“We’re already used to each other,” Shiro continued, like Keith hadn’t interrupted. “And I know you have good rhythm. Besides, you’re going to need to know this at some point as well. Might as well learn now.”

Keith couldn’t really argue with that logic.

“Alright,” he said in defeat., “I guess I’m the woman?”

“I’ll lead, yeah,” Shiro replied, and made a face. “They should change the terms, you’re not a woman. And like, sometimes women dance together, or men. It should be the lead and the — follower, or something.”

“A follower,” Keith said dryly, smiling as Shiro rolled his eyes. “Sounds good, Shiro. Bring it up with the dancing control board.”

“Shut up,” Shiro said easily, pressing play on his phone and setting it down beside the speaker. “And get over here. Put your right hand on my shoulder.”

Without really thinking about it, Keith stepped up and placed the aforementioned hand on Shiro’s shoulder. He had to resist squeezing his fingers against the warm skin on display under Shiro’s muscle tee. It was then that he realised how close this was going to require them to be, and he began to reconsider agreeing.

But then Shiro was slipping a hand over Keith’s waist, where he was sensitive and rarely touched outside of sparring, and taking Keith’s other hand in his own.

Keith had known, objectively, that Shiro had big hands. That he was, in general, bigger than Keith. In fact, he was reminded of this every time they danced together, and he had to actively fight with himself to keep from enjoying it. Unless he was drunk, which was, honeenstly, most of the time, and then he just didn’t have the mental capacity to refrain from enjoying it.

The point was, waltzing required a level of intimacy not found in the club, and Keith was entirely sober. He licked his lips, unsure of where to look and hyperaware of the way Shiro’s hands felt on his body.

He was so ridiculous.

“Alright,” Shiro said. “I’ll count out loud, so just follow my lead, yeah? You’ll catch on quickly.”

“Yeah, sure.” Keith sincerely hoped Shiro couldn’t notice how rough his voice had suddenly gotten. “Nothing fancy though.”

“Of course not,” Shiro replied, and Keith could hear the smile in his voice. “Ready? And…”

They started slowly, with Shiro lowly counting out the beat and carefully leading Keith around the gym floor. He followed, watching Shiro’s feet until he felt like he he’d gotten the hang of it well enough to look up and not step on Shiro’s feet.

It was almost worse like this. Now he had to actually look at Shiro while they —gracelessly— waltzed their way around the gym.

“This is weird,” he said, glancing up at Shiro while they made their way around in what he hoped was a circular movement. “Waltzing, I mean. I feel like I should be wearing a ball gown.” He was wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, although Shiro was dressed similarly in workout gear.

“I honestly can’t picture that,” Shiro told him. His face was a little flushed. “It’d be like trying to dress up a cat in doll’s clothes.”

“Thanks,” Keith said. “That makes me feel really good about myself.”

“I like cats,” Shiro said, nonsensically. He seemed to realise the stupidity of this statement, because he turned redder and looked away.

Keith snorted.

“So what do you have to wear?” He asked, taking pity. “Uniform or mess kit?”

“Mess kit,” Shiro replied. “I do have it on good authority that there will be ball gowns worn, though.”

Keith grinned at him. “Sure you don’t need me in a dress to practice?”

“Definitely not,” Shiro replied, still looking a little embarrassed. “Although this is a hell of a lot easier to do with you.”

“Because of the rhythm?” Keith asked wryly. Shiro didn’t quite catch on.

“Well, yeah,” he said in that infuriatingly sincere way. “Definitely. But you’re a lot shorter than MacKay, it’s easier to lead you around.”

Keith rolled his eyes heavenward. The short jokes never ceased.

“Glad to be of use,” he said. Shiro just smiled at him, still a little flushed. “This is definitely going better than I thought it would. Do you really need the practice?”

“As you so kindly pointed out, this is going to be a lot harder when there’s skirts involved. I need all the practice I can get. Without the skirts,” Shiro added on as Keith opened his mouth.

“Alright,” Keith said. “So how long do you wanna do this for, exactly? Like really, this is going surprisingly well.”

“Oh, really?” Shiro asked, a particularly devilish look crossing over his features. Keith didn’t trust it one bit. “We should try and ramp it up a little, then. Try like, twirls.”

“Seriously? How do you even know — _argh_!” Shiro stepped away and attempted to twirl Keith out, although all he succeeded in doing was dragging him along as Keith stumbled over his own feet. “What the fuck!”

Shiro burst out into laughter, and if it wasn’t so damn endearing, Keith would have throw him to the floor.

“Sorry, sorry! I thought you’d follow!”

“I like literally told you five minutes ago, I don’t know how to do this shit!” He still let Shiro take up his hand again. “Give me some warning, next time.”

“Okay, okay,” Shiro said, placating. He placed his hand back on Keith’s waist, who had to repress a shiver at the sudden heat of it. “Let’s try it again. We’ll do a few bars and then I’ll spin you, okay?”

“Fine,” Keith said grudgingly, following Shiro as the song started up again. “Is this on repeat?”

“It’s a good song,” Shiro said defensively, leading Keith across the floor, “My grandparents loved it.”

“You’re such an old man,” Keith told him. Shiro just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Get ready for the spin now, okay?”

“Fine.” Shiro winked at him, but before Keith had time to cut him down for being a cheesy idiot, he was twirling Keith out. Keith felt remarkably stupid, but he was a sucker and in love with his best friend. So he did it as neatly as possibly and let himself be drawn back in to Shiro’s sphere, where he took up his hand again.

“Nice,” Shiro said approvingly. “I knew you could do this.”

“Why am I starting to feel like you already know how to waltz and you’re inflicting this on me just to see me suffer?” Keith asked.

“Nonsense,” Shiro replied. The grin he failed to suppress said everything, however. “Why would I do that to you, my best friend?”

The way Keith’s heart constricted at the words _best friend_ was absolutely stupid and downright ridiculous, but it happened and he had to live with it. “I dunno, maybe you just like to make others share in your pain, you sadist.”

“Or, I figured you’d be good and it would help to dance with someone who can both dance well and his shorter than me.”

“Always the height,” Keith sighed. “Did Matt have to put up with the constant barrage of short jokes too, or is it just me?“

“Just you. Get ready!”

Smoother than the previous attempts, and then Keith was back in Shiro’s arms. For a few moments they simply danced and Keith let himself fall into the beat of the music, which was in fact ancient, but easy enough to dance to. Even if all they were doing was an admittedly simple waltz.

And Shiro was right, they fit together well. It was surprisingly comfortable, once Keith got past the weirdness of it. There was no denying how nice Shiro’s hands felt on him and how much he liked it. Keith had long since come to terms with the relentless attraction to his best friend, and at this point it barely even phased him anymore.

Well, less than it used to, Keith thought, as he looked up at Shiro, who wore an astoundingly tender expression. His heart stuttered and he had to look away, because it almost felt like he was intruding on something private.

“One last spin,” Shiro murmured after a few moments. “And then we’re probably good.”

“Right,” Keith said, just as quiet. They were extremely close together, like this.

Once more, Shiro spun him out. It felt a hell of a lot more fluid than the first few times, and Keith felt a twinge of satisfaction at having perfected it. Shiro pulled him back in and took his hand once more, but slid his other hand to the base of Keith’s spine., The heat of Shiro’s hand through the thin material of his shirt sent a jolt of electricity through him, but before he knew it gravity was shifting and the world was tilted off its axis.

It took Keith a solid five seconds to process what was happening, and by the time his mind caught up to his body, he’d already let Shiro support the entirety of his body weight, tilting him back far enough that one of his feet was off the ground.

In the back of his mind, the rational part of him was screaming at the indignity of it. Ninety-five percent of him, however, was preoccupied with both the realization that Shiro could easily hoist him up into his arms and the nearness of his stupidly handsome face.

There weren’t many opportunities in which Keith quite this close to Shiro. They were so close that Keith could now could see the faint growth of stubble on his jaw.

He wished, idly, that Shiro would kiss him.

When his gaze met Shiro’s, it almost seemed as though he would.

It was stupid, but time seemed to slow down. His eyes flicked down to Shiro’s lips and then up again, only to find Shiro staring at Keith’s mouth. He licked his own lips without thinking about it and could see the way Shiro’s pupils dilated.

This — _couldn’t_ be happening. Just — couldn’t.

It didn’t.

Keith didn’t know what broke the spell, but he was suddenly righted and the blood was rushing from his head. Dizzy and extremely disoriented, Keith stared at Shiro’s chest without really comprehending what it was he was looking at.

“Well,” Shiro said awkwardly, his voice suddenly sounding too loud, even with the music still playing. “That went well, I think. Thanks, buddy.,”

“No problem,” Keith said faintly., He was still trying to process the event. “Glad I could help.”

“You look a little tired,” Shiro said, with only the faintest hiccup in his throat. It was enough for Keith to resize that Shiro, too, was rattled. “Wanna head back to the dorm?”

“Sure,” Keith said. Shiro nodded, and he watched dazedly as Shiro gathered up his belongings and slipped into his runners before placing Keith’s own before him.

He spent the walk back to their dorm trailing after Shiro in silence.

—

The alien liquor is sweet and tastes nothing like alcohol. As a result, it goes down easily, and everyone is drunk in no time at all. This is compounded by the fact that they never really get to drink any any tolerance anyone might have had is long gone.

Whatever it is, it isn’t harmful to humans. Allura and Coran had both checked and double-checked before allowing the paladins to drink themselves silly.

It’s fun, Keith has to admit. He can’t really remember the last time he’d been this drunk, and it had been ever long since he’d gotten drunk and actually had fun. He’d taken to drinking simply to avoid thinking about Shiro and his grief after the pilot error, although it had never really worked.

Right now, though, with the alcohol warming him pleasantly and Shiro pressed up against his side while the watch the antics of their fellow paladins — _friends_ — it’s easy to forget about all of it, the mourning, the terror, the weight of the universe on their shoulders. It’s easy to forget that he and Shiro have never spoken about what once was, that Keith is quite possibly lonelier than ever even with Shiro back in his life.

None of it currently matters. They’re all here and alive and having fun, even Allura and Coran.

Shiro is back where he belongs, pressed up against Keith.

He rolls his head back onto the couch cushions and looks up at Shiro, whose eyes are bright and face is flushed from the drink. He looks so relaxed, Keith thinks. It would be nice to see him this happy all of the time.

“Guys!” Lance hollers from the middle of the room. “Dudes, get out here! Show us your sick club moves.”

Keith is not so far gone that he’s willing to grind up against Shiro in front of everyone else, though. He still has his dignity, so he just lifts his glass, raises his eyebrow.

“Can’t,” he says simply. “Gotta finish this.”

“Same,” Shiro echoes, clinking his glass against Keith’s. “Just keep dancing, you guys are amazing!”

They are, actually. Hunk and Lance make a weird but entertaining duo, breaking out a mix of hiphop and b-boying that confuses but delights both Allura and Coran, whose dancing is best described as interpretive.

Pidge can’t dance, but that doesn’t keep her from jumping around with the others when a particular favourite or classic comes up.

“I’m honestly impressed,” Shiro says, watching as the three of them try to lead Allura and Coran through a terrible rendition of the Macarena. “I didn’t know the three of them had such a huge music collection. I’m glad they had their phones on them.”

“Yeah,” Keith replied. “It’s lucky, I guess. They’re lucky.” Keith had a collection of CD’s he’d picked up at a thrift store, unwilling and unable to buy a phone, let alone the music they all had.

“I missed music,” Shiro says wistfully, resting his head on top of Keith’s.

If he weren’t drunk, he’d be freaking out, Keith thinks. As it is, he decides to just enjoy it.

It’s been too long.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Shiro takes another sip of his drink, and Keith can smell the sweetness of it on his breath. “I mean, I missed everything. But I missed this, you know? Drinking, listening to music.” Another sip. “Dancing, too.”

“Really, of all the things to miss, you missed following my drunk ass around the city and making sure I didn’t get myself killed?” Keith asks, amused.

Shiro laughs and something warm unfurls in Keith’s chest, not unlike the liquor they’re drinking. “Yeah, even that. It wasn’t all babysitting, though.”

“Hmm.” Keith takes another gulp of his drink, savours the burn of it.

“Did you keep going out, when I was gone?”

Keith tries to look up at Shiro, but it’s hard when Shiro’s still laying his head on his own. All he can see is the line of his jaw.

“Not at first,” he says truthfully. “Didn’t want to. But after you — after that, yeah.”

“Did you kill anyone?”

It’s so sudden that Keith laughs.

“What?” he asks, shoving Shiro off of him. “Dude, no.” Shiro’s grinning, and Keith feels compelled to honesty. “I put some people in the hospital, I think. Got in a knife fight. It’s half the reason I got kicked out.” He takes another gulp of his drink, hoping they don’t need to go any further than this. Keith doesn’t really want to be the one to tell Shiro about the days he spent in the shack, so heartbroken he couldn’t even move. So angry he’d drank with the intention of oblivion.

“What’s the other half?” Shiro asks. Keith looks at him from the corner of his eye, deliberates about whether he really wants to answer, if it will mean turning into corners Keith isn’t willing to shed light upon.

“For not leaving shit alone,” he settles on. “Insubordination and disgracing the military.”

Shiro’s features twist a little as he looks down at the gold-flecked liquid in his glass.

“They should have done more for you,” he says, finally. Keith shrugs awkwardly and knocks back the rest of his drink, grimacing as it sears its way down his throat.

“Maybe,” he agrees. Maybe, if he were willing to think about it. “But it was for the best, in the end. Wouldn’t have found you or Blue in time, otherwise.”

“True,” Shiro says. He finishes off his drink and looks back to Keith with a smile. “So, how about we show these kids how to really dance?”

Keith looks down at his empty glass, feels his face flush.

Is he drunk enough for this?

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough,” he says.

Shiro leans forward, right into Keith’s personal space, and gently cups Keith’s chin.

Keith realises that Shiro himself is pretty drunk.

“Keith, baby,” Shiro says, and Keith the sudden wave of dizziness he gets nearly knocks him over. _Shiro is drunk_ , he reminds himself. “You don’t need to be drunk, you’re so good.”

“Holy shit,” Keith manages. “I’m definitely not drunk enough.”

“Come on,” Shiro says, setting his glass on the cushion beside him and tugging Keith up with him. “I’ve seen you dance sober. Remember the waltz?”

“I wish I’d been drunk for that,” Keith replies. “Shiro, this isn’t club music, I don’t know how to breakdance!”

“Pidge!” Shiro hollers. “Put on something we can actually dance to!”

“Oh my god,” Keith mutters, completely drowned out by the cheering and shrieking of the other five, who clamour over one another to choose an appropriate song.

“Shiro,” Keith starts, but Shiro’s smile is wide and his eyes are bright.

“Just once,” Shiro says. “For me, please?”

— — —

They’d found the cabin during a random ride through the desert. It’d been immediately clear that it was uninhabited, and before long the unspoken decision was that their weekends would be spent there, where they could be as close as they wanted without breaking any rules concerning cadets and officers. Keith wasn’t entirely sure when, or how, but they’d managed to turn the place into a comfortable enough living space, complete with secondhand furniture and cooking tools.

Currently, the cabin was dark, lit only by the light of the moon and the stars. Shiro was sprawled out on the futon, shirt gone and pants undone. He looked up at Keith from underneath his mussed fringe, eyes dark and gleaming.

The desire to crawl back onto the futon and finish what they had started was nearly overwhelming. But Keith had plans and he wasn’t going to abandon them just because Shiro was looking particularly appealing and his thigh had felt fantastic between Keith’s legs.

Besides, it wasn’t like they weren’t going to fuck at all. Keith was just — making it better, hopefully. Giving Shiro something to remember him by, while he was up in space.

“Baby,” Shiro started, but Keith nudged at his foot to silence him.

“This is what you asked for,” he said, toying with the edge of his shirt. Shiro’s shirt, actually. It fit more like a dress on Keith’s lean frame.

“I was hoping for more light,” Shiro replied, his voice teasing. Keith rolled his eyes, even though Shiro probably couldn’t see it, and pointed to the lamp set on a crate next to the futon.

“Turn that on,” he told him. “And then just sit still and let me give this to you. It’s your going away gift.”

“Oooh,” Shiro said excitedly. Keith could practically hear his grin. “This is getting really — woah!”

Keith grinned as the room lit up like the night sky, constellations painting themselves over the walls and both Keith and Shiro themselves. He admired the way Shiro looked with the stars spread out over his skin. “Nice, huh?”

“Yeah,” Shiro replied, looking around the room with an expression of satisfying awe. “It’s gorgeous, where’d you find it?”

“In town. I figured you’d like it.”

“I do.” They both took a moment to watch the stars move over the walls as the lamp slowly rotated. “It’s amazing.”

“Glad you think that,” Keith said, reaching for Shiro’s phone and delving into his music library. “Just sit there and watch, okay?”

“Watch what, exactly?” Shiro asked, voice going low. He had to know, Keith thought as heat bloomed in his belly.

“You asked for a private show,” Keith replied, aiming for nonchalant as he found the song and pressed play. “So I’m giving you one.”

The look on Shiro’s face was deeply gratifying, and Keith grinned at him as he backed up a little while the first beats of the song came through Shiro’s portable speaker.

“You — seriously?” Shiro asked, eyes wide. Keith didn’t bother answering and simply took up the time of the music.

It had probably been a joke, in all honesty. The culmination of their relationship had resulted in fewer nights spent out in favour of spending them wrapped up in one another,. Shiro had only made the request in passing, during a discussion about whether Keith missed getting stupid drunk and dancing with strangers (he didn’t. They still got stupid drunk, but he got to go home with Shiro now instead, which was infinitely better). They’d ended that conversation curled up in bead, satiated and sleepy, when Shiro had murmured the request into the junction of Keith’s neck and shoulder. He hadn’t taken it seriously at the time, half asleep and unwilling to talk in favour of burying his face into Shiro’s chest and passing out.

But…

Well. The whispered request hadn’t left him alone, and after meditating on it for a few days, the idea started to seem pretty appealing.

And so here they were. It was a little awkward and it took Keith a moment to really fall into the rhythm. He wished he’d had something to drink beforehand, but they’d forgone it this time. Too many construction tools laying about to accidentally injure themselves with.

But Shiro was leaning up on his elbows, an awestruck expression on his face, which was honestly better than any shot of liquor. Being the subject of that particular look made Keith feel good. Powerful, like the way that letting Shiro fuck him made him feel powerful. Like he was something better than he really was, something worthy of reverence.

So he took that, focused on the way Shiro watched him, the intense expression on his face as Keith fell further and further into the swing of it, rolling his hips, lifting his arms. The stars and constellations ran over his skin as he twisted the shirt up, ran his hands over his skin.

He knew he was good at this. He’d done it countless times with the express intent of catching someone’s eye and sleeping with them. It was a little different doing it purely for Shiro, in an otherwise empty room and a shirt two sizes to big for him.

He’d never considered dancing solely for someone to watch him. Not like this, and most definitely not with Shiro’s eyes following his every movement, eyes dark and gleaming in the low light.

Keith worked his hips, dipped down low in the way he knew Shiro liked. Rolled his entire body, sinuous. Reached up and let the lights paint over his body as he danced, as he forced Shiro to keep his eyes on him, to burn the moment into his brain, so that he wouldn’t ever forget, not even for a minute, when he was up amongst the stars.

The moment was almost too intense. It was more than Keith had bargained for, and he felt himself stutter as the enormity of the situation crashed into his consciousness.

What was he doing?

Dancing for Shiro was the simple answer.

But it was more complicated, and the crush of emotions tangled up with the act caught up to him, and suddenly it was all too much. The realisation that their time was short, that Shiro was leaving in two days’ time. That Keith was doing this mostly because he needed something for Shiro to remember him by. His desperation to wedge himself under Shiro’s skin permanently, to make sure Shiro knew to come back, that he remembered to come back to him.

The impending loneliness, which Keith had never allowed to bother him.

He wasn’t really done, had had a lot more planned, but the desire to press himself as close to Shiro as possible is overwhelming. And he’s lost the rhythm entirely, anyway. Stuck kneeling on the edge of the futon, shirt still pushed up past his naveal.

What he wants is to feel every inch of Shiro; against him, over him, in him.

“Fuck me,” he said hoarsely.

The music looped back on itself as Shiro pulled Keith to him, as their bodies pressed together, illuminated by the stars.

—

The end of the night finds Keith and Shiro wrapped up in one another, swaying slowly to the music while the others indulge in a dramatic interpretation of the song, fuelled by Allura and Coran’s traditional Altean dancing. They’re still drunk and rowdy, bursting out into laughter at various intervals as one of them inevitably fucks up, but Keith isn’t paying much attention. He’s much more interested in the curve of Shiro’s shoulder under his cheek, the warmth of his hand on Keith’s body.

It’s not really dancing, this. Just rocking slowly in time to the beat, enjoying the warmth of the other’s body.

It’s almost unbearably nice, to be pressed closed like this again, after so long. Comforting, too, as Keith slowly starts sobering up, the wild energy from earlier dissipating with every breath exhaled.

“We should do this more often,” Shiro murmurs, his breath ghosting over Keith’s ear. It sends shivers down Keith’s body, and he can feel his skin raising.

“What, dance parties?” he asks. He feels only a little guilty about how nice all this feels.

“No. Well, yeah, actually, this was fun.” Keith can feel him smile against his head. “But this, being close. I missed it.”

Keith’s heart skips a beat.

There’s no way it could happen. Not when they’ve ignore it for this long.

But he wants it to.

“I’ve been waiting,” he admits, slowly, quietly. “Wasn’t sure how to handle it. Or what you wanted.”

“I don’t know if there was a better way,” Shiro says, just as quiet. Keith pulls away just far enough so that he can look up at him. “I needed the time.”

“I know.” He’s suddenly grateful for the noise the others are making, for the music still filling the lounge. “I missed it too.”

“I know,” Shiro echoes, a weary sort of look passing over his face. Keith feels instantly guilty, because an hour ago Shiro had looked happier than Keith had seen in a very long time. “I’m sorry. For making you wait.”

Part of Keith wonders if they should be having this conversation right now, considering the amount of alcohol they’ve both consumed. But Shiro is looking at him with a tender expression and his eyes are clear, and Keith has known what he’s wanted for a long time.

He hasn’t stopped wanting, despite it all.

“I …probably needed it too. I did, I mean.” It’s difficult to get the words out when Shiro’s looking at him like that, but Keith figures it probably needs to be said. “I …mourned you. Finding you alive was such a relief, but — a shock?” He chances a look back up at Shiro, who smiles a little. Keith’s face grows warm. “Fuck, I’m too drunk for this. I needed some space too, there was so much shit going on. Couldn’t deal with it all at once.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says in agreement. “Can I kiss you?”

All the air in Keith’s chest leaves in a breathless laugh, but he pushes himself up onto his toes and and cups Shiro’s face in both hands, relishing the familiarity of it before pulling him down and fitting their mouths together.

He’s peripherally aware of a great deal of screaming somewhere off to his left. It probably has to do with him and Shiro, but he can’t be bothered to it any mind, not when Shiro’s Galran arm is wrapped possessively around his waist, the human one curling into his hair.

The kiss is messy, just a little uncoordinated, a little drunk, really. But the heat of Shiro’s mouth is better than anything Keith has ever tasted, and he relishes the way they move against one another, familiar but hesitant. Almost like starting over.

When they finally break apart for air, Keith struggles to speak. Shiro’s mouth is red and his eyes are intense as he presses his forehead to Keith’s and sighs against his lips.

“God, I missed that. I missed you, thought about you all the time,” he says, voice rough. “ _God_ , I missed you.”

Keith wishes, desperately, that he could say something in kind. That he could tell Shiro he’d never once forgotten about him, that he’d never wanted anyone else and he probably never would. That he’d missed Shiro just as much, that he _loved_ him, the idiot. But he can’t find the words to fully express what it is he’s feeling, what it is he feels for Shiro. And even if he could, he’d have to contend with the burning of his throat.

So the chaos of their friends clamouring to know the particulars of their relationship comes as a relief. All that’s left for him is to smile at Shiro and pretend like his eyes aren’t watering. To bury his face in Shiro’s shoulder as he determinedly tries to ignore the demand for increasingly lurid details.

To follow Shiro back to his room, which results in more yelling and ribbing. To slip under the covers with him and lay tangled up in one another, finally together amongst the stars.

— — —

_Oh, grant that I can stay one more night,_  
_Or one more day inside this life_


End file.
